Wake of the Ravager

Macronomicon

They were standing in the practice yard of the castle, in the center of a flurry of activity. Young men and women of Gadveran descent were running, sparring, practicing putting on armor, and shooting at straw targets placed against the wall.

“I spent the entire night in a fevered state, even woke old Isaac out of his bed to finish, broke a few of the prototypes, and I owe the old bastard a new steel table, but at the end of it, I got these two to show for it.” Borus said as he reverently held out two dull steel vials for Andra’s inspection.

They were shaped like stylized bones with little bubbles in the center. One was painted red and was shiny with deep cross-hatching on the nubs on either side of the lump that presumably contained whatever the incendiary material was.

The other was painted blue, with a smoother matte finish.

“The hell is this?” she asked, tapping the blue one.

“Slime from an ooze-weaver.”

Andra recoiled slightly. Ooze weavers had slime that stuck around for hours, was almost impossible to clean off, and didn’t dry in the air.

“And that one?” she asked, pointing at the red steel vial.

“Explosives.”

“You brought me a fancy fire cracker?” she asked, glancing over at Cal meaningfully. “for forty stones?”

“Forty stones!?” Cal demanded. “It said fifteen on my list!”

“That was your list. My list was better.” Borus said to Cal before glancing back up at Andra. “I’ve got at least a dozen more under that price, but how about I just show you what the kid can do with them?”

“Be my guest.”

“Alright boy,” he said, pointing at two young men in a vigorous practice match. “use this one on them.” he handed Cal the blue one.

The difference between the look and feel of the two vial, Cal assumed, was so that they were never mistaken for each other, as one was absolutely lethal and the other mildly inconvenient.

“You’re sure this has slime in it?”

“Ninety nine percent…probably.”

“Use it on a target first.” Andra said, her voice dour.

“Alright, how thick is the plating?” Cal asked.

“Eighth of an inch, or thereabouts.”

Shaping

6/11 bent remaining.

Cal blindly targeted a tiny sphere inside the steel vial and pumped all one hundred and twenty-one pounds of mass into the duplicate, aiming just in front of the targets.

A three-foot diameter sphere of clear fluid appeared in front of the straw men, and in the blink of an eye, it exploded outward, somehow maintaining a single umbrella shaped piece as it splattered all over the targets, and coated all the hard-packed dirt within twenty feet with a thick layer of slime.

Borus squealed with delight, clapping his chuby, semi-transluscent hands together. “It works, it works just like I’d hoped!”

“Color me unimpressed.” Andra said as the practicing archers cocked their heads in confusion. One walked up to the edge of the mat of slime and started poking it with a finger, grimacing as the slime followed their finger back up.

“Use it on them, now,” Borus said, excitedly, pointing at the two men engaged in swordplay.

Shaping

5/11 bent remaining.

The sphere of slime exploded on the two swordfighters, who flinched backward and fell to the ground. One seemed to have difficulty breathing until he bit a hole in the slime, spitting it out and taking a shuddering breath, while the other couldn’t maintain his grip on his sword, which squirted out of his fingers.

When they tried to stand, their legs slipped in the newly formed muck beneath them and sent them comically careening down to the ground. This repeated itself six times, until the two jointly decided on trying to crawl out of the circle of slime, unfortunately dragging the thick slime along for the ride. There was no escape.

“Better,” Andra said, nodding with a critical frown as people began to crowd around the unfortunate men. A young woman tried to give one of them a hand up, and wound up slipping into the gunk herself, adding to the confusion.

“I dumped a bucket on myself once and couldn’t pick myself off the floor for a good three hours. I had to crawl all the way to the river and dunk myself multiple times.” Borus said cheerfully.

“Dismiss it.”

Cal dismissed the slime, and the gunk on the ground ceased to exist, like it’d never been, allowing the two very confused soldiers to stand up, the center of a curious crowd.

Huh, wasn’t sure I could do that.

“Let’s see the other one.” Andra said, pointing at the straw men.

“Ummm…” Borus said.

“What? The slime is interesting, but it doesn’t justify paying you forty stones.”

“Well, those spheres were about four times bigger than I was expecting...”

“Something wrong?” She asked.

“Were you holding back earlier, with the cork?”

“Yeah, why?” Cal said.

“Eternus, mother of-“ Borus raised a tightened fist and then sighed. “This is why we do prototypes.” He turned to face Andra. “I based my math on a flawed assumption. The explosive will be a bit…stronger than I thought.”

“stronger isn’t bad. How much stronger?” Andra asked.

“You should probably command everyone to stand back.”

Andra watched him for a second, before sucking in a tremendous breath.

“Form up!” She shouted loud enough to reverberate across the entire field. The entire contents of the practice yard made a hasty formation, their spines straight, eyes forward.

“Against the wall!” She said, pointing to the other side of the yard, away from the straw targets. After a minute, she grunted in satisfaction.

“Calvin, the range is yours. Impress me.”

Damn, I hope these things are good.

Shaping.

4/11 Bent remaining.

A shimmering sphere manifested in between the targets before atomizing in every direction, and then, a fraction of a second later, the entire practice yard was as bright as the sun, radiating painful levels of heat from a hundred feet away.

Just as fast as the light came, it was gone, and Cal was able to open his eyes.

The straw men were gone, the posts holding them up were drastically reduced cinders, and, most telling, the wall behind the straw men was glowing orange where the outer layer of stone had been melted until it was shiny.

“That was the same as Malkenrovian Mage’s Fire.” Andra said, her jaw slackening. “That was Mage’s Fire!”

“So it was,” Borus said with a grin. “So, about that forty-stone bill?”

Andra immediately regained her calm, narrowing her eyes at the little berry-shaped man.

“how many more are you making?”

“A dozen different types, at least,” he said. “None quite as destructive as this one, but each will have its own effect. And they are reusable, of course.” He pointed at the steel vial in Cal’s hand. “As long as the boy has Bent, those vials can be used as components to create a variety of effects, endlessly.”

“Each one of those vial’s interior is coated in glass and reinforced with steel, and should last years before the contents degrade. I also had this made for them.”

It was a small leather belt with dozens of small sleeves that fit the vials perfectly. Borus slipped the blue vial into the sleeve to prove it. The little tabs on the top of the vials were there to make sure it was easy to draw them.

Cal was still staring at the glassed practice yard. He glanced down at the vial in his hand.

Hooollyyy shiiit.

Oh, yeah, I’m liking this. Let’s call it Fireball for no particular reason. We can call the slime one Grease…for no particular reason.

“I can’t argue with good work.” Andra said, reaching out and shaking Borus’s hand. “forty stones, twenty now to cover your costs, and twenty on delivery.”

“More than fair, general.” Borus said with a grin, shoving the belt into Cal’s hands.

“Horas,” Andra said, pulling the Fireball out of Cal’s hand and giving to her lieutenant. “Take this to the academy and ask them what their excuse is for Splitters not taking part in the war. It better be a good one.”

“Ma’am,” Horas said, taking the vial and running away at full speed.

“Now, let’s get that payment written up,” Andra said, she and the little berry man turning away.

“What about me?” Cal asked.

“Stay here! Lance will take care of you.”

“Who the hell is –“

“I’m Lance.” A man looming over Cal’s shoulder said. “I run the practice yard.” He glanced over his shoulder at the lined up onlookers staring at Cal.

“Back to it!” he shouted, and the gawkers flinched, returning to their practice. The archers went out to a shed and dragged more stakes, hammers and straw men out to the crispy side of the yard. Cal could feel one of the guys he’d slimed watching him with a fair amount of hostility, but that was fair.

Cal wrapped the belt around his waist and put the blue vial near where his hand rested.

“You must be Andra’s new pet wizard,” Lance said, eyeing him critically. “Still got your baby fat. Ever been in the army before?”

“No.”

“No sir.”

“No sir.”

“Alright, let’s give you the experience. Start running.”

“Huh?”

“NOW NOW NOW!” Lance lunged for him and Cal started running as he was unwittingly herded toward the group of jogging recruits, blending in with them for cover.

Lance let off him once he was jogging with the rest of the recruits. He could already feel their curious eyes on him, prickling from every direction. At least they weren’t overtly hostile.

“You the one that made the explosion, some kind of Malkenrovian Mage?” one of them asked, a short, barrel-chested young man about Cal’s age.

“Yeah, but I’m a wizard.”

“You’re Malkenrovian, though.” another chimed in.

“Well, yeah.”

“What’s it like being a noble?” A short girl with close-cropped hair asked.

“A wha?” Cal asked, craning his neck to glance over at her in confusion.

“Wizards are all nobles, generally. At least the ones who can do stuff like that. It’s hard to raise your Mind very high when you’ve gotta put food on the table.”

“That makes sense,” Cal said. “I’m more like a series of freak accidents than a noble. My mom’s a shepherd.” That can kill people with her bare hands. Cal was starting to find that a little suspicious.

The surrounding glances that he felt against his skin softened somewhat.

“What about your dad?” the barrel-chested boy asked.

“What dad?” Cal scoffed. There were plenty of decent male role models strewn around the village, but most of them were at arm’s length.

I can be your male role model.

Shut up, you.

“Sprints!” Lance shouted, and everyone except for Cal burst into a mad dash, removing his cover and allowing Lance to hit cal across the back with a switch.

Agh, son of a bitch! I’m definitely not inviting this guy to my kingdom.

Definitely.

Over the course of the afternoon, Lance tried to break Cal, but being raised by Karen…he was more than prepared for grueling exercise. At the end of the day, Cal collapsed into a pile with the rest of them, drinking from wooden mugs with shaky hands.

“Form up!” Lance shouted before Cal was quite finished drinking. Cal jumped to his feet, struggling to find a place to stand. Finally they were arranged in a nice five by five square, spines straight.”

“Calvin, you’re out of line!”

“What?”

“As the lowest rank of officer, you may be everyone else’s bitch, but you still outrank the enlisted to either side of you. Come to the front, far right.”

“Well, you are a wizard.” A boy next to Cal said softly.

“Huh.” Calvin stepped out and placed himself at the front, rightmost position.

“Now, we are going to work on your salutes, with an emphasis on how to salute a superior, because for most of you, that’s going to be all you do, and for some of you in particular, it could be a matter of life and death.” His gaze settled on Cal for a moment.

Crap.

***Kala***

“How about this one?” Kala asked, turning her scribble over and showing it to Ella. Her translator didn’t need to interpret at this point, since they’d been over this so many times.

“A bit sharper on the top,” Ella said. “Sharper.” She made a triangle with her fingers. “Top.”

“Ah, Kala erased the scribble and started changing it to Ella’s specifications.

As it turned out, Calvin Gadsint didn’t have a family crest, much to the surprise of the Diviner paid to find it for them. He said it wasn’t possible, that Everyone had a family crest since hundreds of years ago, but he couldn’t explain why a drop of Calvin’s blood gave them nothing.

So Kala had stepped in and took the opportunity to design it for him. Since it was going on Ella, she got to have a say in it, and they put their heads together to create a work of art. Something simple, but elegant. They were currently sitting in the lobby of the skin-artist, a beautician who tattooed upper class citizens.

They could have gone down to the Slave dealer and gotten it stamped out real quick, but it would have most likely been ugly, with messy lines.

The slave dealer… Kala thought guiltily as Ella excitedly watched her draw over her shoulder.

“Are you…okay with this?” Kala asked. “Getting Cal’s house symbol on you? It means he owns you.”

Her translator dutifully interpreted her words into Genosian babble.

Ella blinked at her for a moment, then laughed and blurted out a torrent of words that made the translator rock back on his heels.

“What’d she say?”

“It was a little confusing, but it was something along the lines of, and I’m paraphrasing here: It doesn’t really bother me. It won’t change the fact that I practically own him already, We’re bonded more deeply than that, and if he dies first, it’ll be a nice little reminder of my chained spirit, otherwise, his chained spirit can have his mark on it. It’s a win-win.”

“Chained spirit?” Kala asked. “Wait, practically own him already? What does that mean?” She bristled at the friendly girl’s grin. Did she seduce him with that gorgeous body? Kala found her eyes roaming Ella’s curves. I wish I could… Kala shook her head, glancing at the faint pink tether pointing in the direction of the castle, where Calvin was.

Stay on task, Kala thought to herself, putting her mental blinders on while her translator carried on her question. Do not be distracted by amazing boobs or the fact that Cal put on a lot of muscle since you last saw him.

“It’s something unique to my people. I will show you what I mean when we get back to the castle,” Ella said with a smile. “Now,”

“Where do you think the tattoo would make my Incha Huala lose the ability to speak?” she asked, pointing at her breastbone. “Here?”

“I don’t – ”

She tugged her skirt down, revealing the very top of the juicy curves of her bottom, “Here, ooor…” She slid her front down until her entire lower stomach was revealed, dangerously close to exposing her womanhood. “Here?”

Kala’s heart was hammering in her ears, the skin of her face burning.

“Uuuuhhh….”

Ella grinned. “That’s it.” she said in Gadveran.

Trevor the translator spoke something harshly in Genosian, causing Ella to give a dissatisfied grunt before tugging her skirt back up.

“I’m sorry, princess, this savage has no sense of propriety.”

“No it’s fine!” Kala said, a little louder than she intended.

By the gods, I feel like I need a drink of water, and maybe a bucket of it over my head.

“So, which one do you want?” Trevor said.

“Can you give me a minute to decide?” Kala asked, her voice a bit squeakier than normal.

Macronomicon